Boba Fett and Diner Breakfasts
by miss-olivia-winchester
Summary: The TARDIS is crashing. Again. It lands at an opportune time in an opportune place; Fate placing the Doctor, Amy, Dean, and Sam in a situation that spells out 'trouble' quite clearly...because what other word would describe these four in one motel room?
1. Chapter 1

**Heads up, this is around Season 2-ish in Supernatural and around season 5 in Doctor Who (Eleventh Doctor). This is one of my first official crossover fics, so be lenient! Also, please remember to leave lots and lots of reviews—feedback is crucial to better content.**

Ashville, Minnesota

"For the love of God, Sam, throw away the burrito."

Sam scoffed, "For your information, some people actually need food to survive."

Even about to do away with a vengeful spirit, the Winchester brothers were in a pleasant mood, cruising down a back road at 11:52 pm with the windows down and AC/DC cranked. They were about as relaxed as they could get, since Dean was even singing loudly and annoyingly to the track.

He paused for a moment to ask his brother, "So run me through it again, huh?"

Breathing a small sigh, Sam explained, "Back in the 70's a girl named Amelia Harris went missing. Nobody knows what exactly happened, but her body was found in the woods with a single gunshot wound to the head. The area wasn't even touched until a year ago, when a logging company started working there. Almost half a dozen people have died there just in the past four months."

"And we….we know where she's buried, right? We're not just going in here blind?"

Folding up the map on his lap and rolling his eyes, Sam retorted sarcastically, "Yeah, Dean; we know the exact pinpointed location of her grave." After a withering glare from his brother, Sam continued more seriously, "Look, all we know is that her family buried her here in the woods under a lavender bush."

Dean chuckled, "Bunch of pansies. So we find this lavender bush, we find her body?"

"Exactly."

The night was uncomfortably cold, with a film of fog hanging over the forest floor, just barely visible by the light of the fat gibbous moon. Stray leaves crunched beneath the brothers' boots as they ventured deeper into the dense forest, scanning the ground for the telltale purple flower.

"Let's split up," Dean called, and the two went in opposite directions, still searching for the bush. Threads of adrenaline ran through Dean's body as he heard a twig snap; he whirled around, gun at the ready. Muscles tense, gun cocked, Dean Winchester was ready for anything, as he always was.

A freezing blast of wind blew past Sam and he yelled, "Dean, she's over here!" A monstrous, howling wind tore through the trees and Sam involuntarily shivered before his brother crept up next to him.

"You sure it's not just the wind?" Dean whispered, and Sam shook his head, his dark, wavy hair swaying slightly.

"No. I could tell she was here; I could….I don't know, I could feel her, I guess."

Dean glanced at his brother strangely before whispering back, "Well do you see any lavender or what?" The brothers scanned the forest floor, and though the moonlight was dim, their eyes snagged on the low, dark green, flowered bush, almost missing it.

"Found it!" Sam laughed, Dean sighing out of relief next to him.

"So do we torch the bush and the body?" Dean asked, and Sam pursed his lips in momentary thought.

"Huh…I guess we should, just to be safe." Not a second after he declared this, Sam felt ice-cold hands grab his neck, cutting off his air supply. A deep rage incited in Dean's eyes as he noticed and shot the spirit with rock salt bullets.

"Damn," he muttered, checking around before picking up the shovel he'd brought and clearing his throat so his brother would look at him.

"Yeah?" Sam coughed and looked over.

"You okay?" Dean asked him as he started hacking at the roots of the bush. Wistful breezes snaked past their ankles as Sam reassured his brother that he was, indeed, fine. Practice helped the two dig up the grave within 30 minutes, and as soon as they climbed out, Dean held out a small bag of marshmallows.

"S'more?" he inquired charmingly.

"Hold on, Amelia!"

The TARDIS was crashing. Again.

It didn't help that the navigation system was 'wonky', as the Doctor put it.

"When and where are we landing?!" Amy screamed over the TARDIS's angry noises as she held on for dear life to a railing, the structure rattling and jarring. The Doctor paused, gripping the console and staring at the readings, trying to make sense of them.

"I don't know exactly, but it's going to be like Cardiff, a sort of recharging station. It looks like it's on Earth, though!"

"What does Cardiff have to do with this?" Amy yelled, and the Doctor laughed, to her annoyance.

"Wrong regeneration!" he told her over the noise, and she rolled her eyes, teeth rattling as the ship shook.

The TARDIS let out a low shriek; the Doctor soon after shouting, "We're going to crash any minute now!"

"You don't say," Amy muttered under her breath.

The two passengers almost got whiplash as the TARDIS 'landed' not-so-gracefully on the ground—Amy hoped they'd landed in a good place. With the ship stopping its screaming and shaking, the lights were slowly going out, and a backup generator turned on a dull, orange light near the floor.

"Woo-hoo!" the Doctor laughed quietly, out of breath. He was lying face-up, panting softly with a big, childish smile on his face. Amy was still clinging to the railing, face paler than usual as she pursed her lips, staring into nothing.

"You can let go now, Amy," the Doctor reminded her with a small chuckle, at which Amy smiled very slightly before coming to and slowly standing up.

"So where are we?" she inquired finally, brushing her jacket off and looking to the Doctor, who was also dusting his coat off.

"Not sure," he admitted, screwing up his eyebrows as he checked the TARDIS controls, which were completely dead and inoperable. "She's had quite a fit—we must have accidentally brushed by a parallel world."

Amy blinked, a frown pulling her face downwards. "Parallel _what_? Those exist?"

The Doctor sighed, "Long story." He looked up at Amy suddenly she didn't see in him very often. "But it looks like we're going to be here for a while."

After a whole lot of raised voices and a very pissed-off Amy, the two stepped out of the TARDIS, prepared to face anything that came their way. But it was just a forest. A very beautiful forest, of course, with the moonlight lending an almost magical glow to the place, but still: only just a bunch of trees.

"A forest," Amy muttered to herself, "Great. That helps."

"We'll find someone and ask where we are," the Doctor told her reassuringly, and she sighed deeply as he led her across the forest floor.

"What about the TARDIS?" Amy asked, her worry causing the Doctor to wince almost imperceptibly before answering.

"Nothing can get through that door, Amelia. Believe me, almost everything's tried. It'll be here when we come back." Amy had to trust the Doctor, and somewhere inside she knew she did, even if it meant believing a thin wooden door could keep back anything.

"Salt and burn, baby. Salt. And. Burn."

Sam and Dean Winchester stood, relieved, just outside the hole they'd just dug out. Flames licked the edges of the grave, crackling quietly and warming the brothers' faces. Dean held a trace of a grin on his face, and Sam had that endearingly thoughtful expression. This was just a minor job to them. Little did they know it would become so much more. They were still resting where they were when they suddenly heard a rustling behind them. Dean, of course, pulled out his pistol in half a second, while Sam took a moment to see who—or what—had caused the noise. It was too dark to see them yet, but Sam could hear a man and woman conversing, along with their noisy footfalls and rustling of bushes. Though Sam told his brother to put the gun down, Dean insisted on keeping it up and ready. He would never _not_ be ready if he could help it. And just as Dean told brother 'no', the couple stepped into the clearing, finally visible by the moonlight.

The man, average height—though on the tall side—had on what the Winchester's would call a 'grandpa suit', with a bowtie topping the odd outfit. He looked to be early thirties, but was most likely around Dean's age, and had floppy brown hair with a childish spark of interest in his green eyes. The woman with him was just an inch or two shorter than her partner, with beautiful, long red hair and freckles on her pale face. She had a confused, yet cynical look on her face, and she looked to be maybe a year or two younger than the man with her. Sam knew instantly that Dean was going to try to hit on her. The two who'd just walked over widened their eyes the minute they saw the gun being pointed at them, and threw up their hands.

"Who are you?" Dean asked, honest-to-God insatiably curious.

"Put the gun down and we'll talk," the redhead insisted, glaring slightly at the older Winchester brother.

"How do we know you won't attack us?" Sam inquired, soft and inquisitive.

The man spoke up then, a British accent clearly noticeable in his voice. "I'm not a threat to you, boys, but you could take me and Amy out the second you decided to. I mean, look at me! Shabby old coat; great, big, floppy mop of hair; I look like an idiot!"

Sam couldn't help but smile; there was something about this guy that Sam knew he could trust. Dean, of course, wasn't as open. But, if anyone, Dean would listen to Sam.

"Alright, Dean, put it down. They're fine."

"I think I like your partner a little more," the man told Dean as the gun was tucked into its holster. Slowly, the strangers put their hands down, the man eventually asking, "Where are we?"

"Uh, in the woods?" Dean retorted rudely, earning him a look from Sam. "What?"

"We're….a little lost," the woman, who'd been called Amy admitted, and Dean seemed to notice her for the first time. Sam rolled his eyes when his brother winked at her, and though the women he flirted with usually flirted back, Amy didn't even wince.

"You're in Ashville, Minnesota," Sam told the two, who looked at each other, exchanging a knowing glance. Something was up, Sam could tell as he narrowed his eyes and observed the two.

The man laughed suddenly, causing Dean to give him a look that quite plainly questioned the man's sanity, and Sam inquired with confusion, "What's so funny?"

Gasping out a laugh with a huge grin on his face, the stranger told the woman with him quietly, "Amelia, we're in America."

She snorted gently and said, "Yeah, their accents are pretty hilarious, too."

Dean, looking indignant, told the Scot, "Hey, you're the ones with the funny accents."

The man interrupted to introduce himself and the woman, gesturing as he spoke, "I'm the Doctor, this is Amelia."

"Hellooo, Amelia," Dean mumbled, even though it was loud enough that everyone heard it. Amy glared at him and crossed her arms.

"Only the Doctor gets to call me Amelia. It's Amy to you."

Sam looked away to smile to himself—he had the same situation with Dean.

Amy peered behind the brothers (who still hadn't introduced themselves) and seemed to finally notice what it was they were or had been doing. Screwing up her eyebrows in confusion, she asked with disbelief and a hint of repulsion, "Were you two…burning a grave?"

The Doctor noticed, too, making a face and telling the young men, "Same question. What are you two doing here?"

"I might ask you two the same question," Dean shot back.

"I told you, we're lost," Amy insisted.

After a pause, Sam admitted hesitantly, "Well, we may….have...yeah. We're burning a grave. I know, weird."

"Not all Americans do this," Dean interjected, seeming to think that this was how the two would view them as a country.

"I know that, but what I do want to know right now is who you both are," The Doctor looked expectantly at the two brothers, urging them to answer.

"So what brings you across the pond, huh?" Dean asked, completely ignoring the Doctor's question.

Though annoyed, the Doctor replied, "Oh, I'm not from Europe."

Sam raised an eyebrow. "So where are you from?" Amy shivered from the cold and glanced at her supposed hiking partner, who held a glimmer of humor in his green eyes.

"I can't tell you that."

Dean and Sam looked at each other before Dean sighed, "Look, either way, you both need to forget what you saw, okay? It's none of your business."

"No."

The Doctor's answer surprised the brothers, and just outright annoyed Dean. He let out a pissed-off sigh and snapped, "And why the hell not?"

The Doctor opened his mouth to speak, but Amy spoke up before he could, explaining, "Look, we're lost, we can't tell you a bunch of information, but we do know that we'd like a ride to the nearest town."

After a small moment of hesitation, Sam offered, "You could catch a ride with us."

Dean shoved his brother's shoulder petulantly, frowning as he told him, "What? No. They are not riding with us."


	2. Chapter 2

**Reviews are pure gold and just as rare! Please contribute—reviews make me so happy!**

Dean Winchester was practically pouting as he drove his Impala, with two strangers in the back seat and a half-asleep brother in the passenger seat.

"American cars are so weird," Amy chuckled quietly to the Doctor, and Dean rolled his eyes. Who were these guys, anyway? Why did they have so much to hide?

"Could you turn on the radio, by chance?" the Doctor inquired, but was quickly shot down by the driver.

Sam, eyes half-closed and voice sleepy and rumbling, told his brother, "Dean, don't be rude." Grumbling to himself, Dean turned on the radio, which was of course tuned into a classic rock station. 'Separate Ways' by Journey was playing, and, happening to be one of Sam's favorites, got the guy singing along very quietly and very off-key. Dean felt a bit better, now that his little brother was comfortable and happy. For the mean time, anyway. God knew they'd be after some serial-killing ghost in no time.

By the time they got to town, Dean finally remembered to ask the hitchhikers where they'd be staying. After a pause and a bit of mumbling, the Doctor replied, "Actually I've forgotten my money. Is there any chance that—"

"No, you're not staying with us, and no, you cannot sleep in my car," Dean interrupted, glancing at their disappointed expressions via rearview mirror.

Sam, who had just woken up, pleaded, "Come on, man, we've gotta at least try to help them. They don't have anywhere to go right now."

Dean emitted a pissed-off sigh before grumbling, "Fine. But we're leaving in the morning."

"We'll get it sorted by then," Amy promised, peeking at the Doctor for reassurance.

The Impala pulled into the Lake House Motel parking lot, and all four got out, suddenly mindful of the time. It was almost half past midnight, and Amy and Dean crashed the moment they sat on the separate beds, with the Doctor and Sam taking the floor. The room went dead silent within 20 minutes, and Sam found himself to be the only one awake. Shifting slightly on the thinly-carpeted floor and moving his pillow an inch, Sam looked over at the alarm/radio/clock and observed that it was already 2:00 am. Just as he looked away from the clock, though, heavy footfalls, probably in boots, stepped in front of the room.

Sam tensed up, heart beginning to race. Slowly but surely, he reached for the gun on the nightstand, holding it close and mentally preparing for anything. With the precision only an entire childhood of hunting could have prepared him for, he turned the doorknob delicately and carefully. His breath showed when he exhaled quietly, sending a thin, soft plume of visible carbon-dioxide into the air. Sam's eyes scanned the area in front of their door, but oddly enough, no one was there. Had he imagined it? His shoulders losing their tense stance, Sam sighed and closed the door, then set his gun back on the nightstand and laid back on the admittedly uncomfortable floor.

A minute or two passed, and Dean asked quietly, surprising Sam, "Couldn't sleep?" He must have woken up when Sam had closed the door; he was a light sleeper, after all. Getting no answer, Dean tried again. "Did you even get any sleep yet?"

It took a moment, but Sam finally replied softly with a guilty edge, "No."

"What's up?" the older brother asked, his voice losing sleepiness to concern.

Reluctantly, Sam admitted, "It's my dreams, Dean. They're getting worse." He could practically feel the confusion rolling off of Dean as silence penetrated the room. And almost too quietly for Dean—though he did end up hearing—Sam murmured, "Just because they happen during the day doesn't mean I don't have nightmares anymore."

The next morning, at 7:30 sharp, the Winchester brothers were 'up and at 'em', but decided not to forcibly awaken the two hitchhikers—not yet, anyway. Cleaning out one of his many rifles at the table, Dean glanced at Sam, who was washing his face ("Hygiene, Dean. Hygiene.").

"So did you end up getting any sleep?"

With a mildly pleasant tone, Sam replied, "Actually, yes."

'The Doctor' and Amy were waking up now, and Dean turned on the radio, blasting AC/DC's Thunderstruck—they were definitely awake now. Grumbling and pouting, Amy pulled herself out of bed, while the Doctor jumped right up like a spring coil, startling the brothers.

"Are we having breakfast?" Amy mumbled, and Dean happened to understand her, out of some miracle.

"Yup. I'll take you to the diner I saw on the way here," he told them, putting his guns into a duffel bag at his feet.

"What about Sam?" the Doctor inquired, looking over at the young man, who was rigorously brushing his teeth in front of the bathroom mirror, the door to the room wide open. Sam spit his toothpaste out before backing the Doctor up.

"Good question."

Dean laughed, though Sam could hear the slightest edge to his voice. "What _about_ him? He's—he's cool with staying here, right?" He gave Sam a look that told him to go with it, prompting the younger brother to nod.

"Sure, yeah, I'll stay here. You guys be sure to bring me back something, okay?"

The Doctor's eyes switched back and forth between the brothers before leaving for the car, Amy closely following. The second the two left the room, Dean walked over to Sam and told him quietly, "Listen, Sam, you research the crap out of these guys, okay? I've got a weird feeling about who they say they are."

Sam nodded, agreeing, "Yeah, okay. And I wasn't kidding about you bringing me something." Dean grinned and gave him a one-finger salute before walking backwards out the door, then closing it. Sighing, Sam sat down in front of his laptop, thinking as he did, _'Well, at least I've got good Wi-Fi.'_

"So. The Doctor, huh? You look a little young to be a doctor."

The man chuckled humorlessly, "I'm a lot older than I look."

Dean pretended to ignore him and inquired, "Well, the 'Doctor' is clearly an alias, so what's your real name? Who are you, really?"

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," the Doctor said dismissively.

"Try me," Dean replied, voice rock-solid and apple-green eyes unblinking.

Sunlight shone through the large windows at the diner, illuminating the three's faces. They were mistrustful; it was true, but not enough so that they didn't want to know each other's secrets. Dean was across the table in a comfortable booth from Amy and the Doctor, and had been the first to order and the first to ask a question, and, in effect, proverbially 'cut the crap'.

"Who are _you_?" the Doctor inquired, turning the interrogation around. "I don't even know your name, yet I slept in your motel room, so tell me. Who are you?" He leaned forward, as if to intensify the moment.

Squaring his jaw, the Winchester replied, "I'm just going to have to say 'ditto' on this one."

After a short pause of contemplation, Amy finally spoke up. "One question I still have: what were you and the other guy doing burning a grave?"

Dean chuckled, "Now, it's not nice to ask somebody that, especially when that somebody's paying for your breakfast." Amy gave him a dirty look but decided to let it slide, instead holding out a hand to receive the food being delivered to their table at the moment.

A plate of scrambled eggs and sausage was placed in front of the mysterious bow-tied man, and some toast with bacon was handed to Amy—a very American breakfast for the two of them, and a change at that. Across the table, Dean was served an entire pie, which he stared down at lovingly.

"A whole pie?" Amy asked incredulously, pulling her butter knife out of its rolled-up napkin sheath.

Dean frowned, insisting in an almost-pout, "Yes, a whole pie. I'm gonna leave a piece for Sammy, I swear."

"So his name's Sammy?" Amy asked conversationally as she began to butter her toast.

"Only I get to call him that," Dean insisted sharply before taking a deep breath. Then he asked his own question. "So how'd you two get so lost you didn't even know you were in America?"

"Long story," the Doctor answered immediately, almost determined to stay stubborn and vague.

Dean let out a pissed sigh, leaning back in his pleather diner seat and looking out the window.

Amy sighed quietly, eyes on her toast as she finished buttering the last of it. "You are both allergic to straight answers."

Only half an hour later, the three left the diner, since they'd finished their food and gotten next to nowhere with their exchange of questions. As he walked into the motel room, Dean noticed Sam quickly closing his laptop, and handed him the leftover box.

"Got some pie for you—tell you what, you are so lucky I didn't eat it yet." The Doctor and Amy sat on one of the two beds, murmuring quietly to one another and glancing over momentarily at the brothers. "What'd you find on them, Sam?" Dean asked softly so the guests couldn't hear.

With a small gulp, Sam admitted, "I'm just gonna be honest, I've got nothing on him. It—it's like he doesn't exist."

"Are you serious?" Dean groaned, then inquired in hushed tones, "Well, what do you have on Amy?"

Opening his laptop, Sam discreetly showed Dean an online certificate, explaining, "All I got on her is a birth certificate and proof of marriage to a 'Rory Williams'."

After an almost inaudible, _'The good ones are always taken'_ , Dean asked his brother incredulously, "These guys are good." The two looked over their shoulders at the travelers, who, awkward as it was, were also glancing over at them from across the room. "Well this is uncomfortable," Dean muttered and cleared his throat.

Sam stood up suddenly, an annoyed expression on his face as he demanded the Doctor, "Okay, who are you, really? There's nothing on you, and we know you're more than you claim to be."

Chuckling, the man leaned casually against the wall and replied, "I like your directness, Sam, but I'm afraid I can't tell you boys. Not yet, anyway."

"At least let us know your name. I'm Sam Winchester; this is Dean, my brother. What's your name?" Sam was close to pleading now—his curiosity was piqued now, he couldn't help it.

"I told you, it's the Doctor."

Now Dean was fed up. He stood up and strode over to the man, shaking a finger in the Doctor's face as he told him, "I'm getting really pissed off here, Doc. So you'd better shake off that snarky attitude or you can leave." And as the words left his mouth, a small explosion sparked only a few feet from the bed, lighting up with a flash of green.

"Get down!" the Doctor roared, pulling Dean and Amy down to the floor with him since they were close. Sam jumped in surprise as a second miniature explosion occurred mere inches from the chair he stood next to, and he decided in a split second to drop to the floor as the Doctor had told them.

"Doctor who?!" Dean yelled, glaring at the Doctor, who let out a childish laugh. "How the hell is this funny?" the older brother demanded, leaning up against the bed. He was ignored, of course, so, with a deep sigh, pulled out a pistol and glanced over the bed out the window. Another shot was fired, and though it narrowly missed, Dean could now see or theorize what it might be. And it sounded crazy. "Is that a laser?" he cried incredulously, ducking behind the bed again.

The Doctor followed suit and took a peek above their bed/barrier, only to be so narrowly missed, his ear got singed. "Right-o, Dean. It's a 9000 Delta Transpo, if I'm right. Of course I'm right, but none of you are going to notice, are you?"

"I swear, if this is some kind of prank…..," Dean grumbled.

"Trust me, this isn't a trick, or prank, or anything like that."

Sam slowly but surely began to reach for his gun that he'd left on the table, his eyes trained on the window and heart beating fast. Suddenly another shot rang out, the blast searing Sam's arm and causing him to draw back immediately, roaring in pain.

"Sammy!" Dean cried, then angrily but strategically swung around the corner of the bed and shot four rounds out the window blindly.

"Stop it! Put the gun down!" the Doctor snapped at Dean, who scowled at him. Sam was clutching his upper arm, slow and deliberate breaths snaking through his nostrils and his eyes screwed shut.

"Okay, now you have to tell us who you are," Dean told Amy and the Doctor. Before he could get any response, he swung over and shot a few more bullets out the window. The shooting stopped then, for both sides, and Dean declared after several long, long minutes, "Whoever it was either ran away or got hit."

"Oh, he left, but he's coming back, no doubt about that," the Doctor told them.

Sam and Dean's eyes met and Sam frowned, "What do you mean?"

Sitting on a bed and sighing tiredly, the Doctor responded, "Well, I may or may not have made someone so angry at me that they hired a bounty hunter to kill me."

"Sounds like Dean," Sam chuckled, though his expression clearly told of hidden pain from his arm's wound. He was still gripping it tight, fingers shaking and sweat dripping down his face. After taking some cautious steps over, Dean went over to Sam, promising he'd get him patched up. Amy and the Doctor could see the protectiveness in Dean's eyes as he found bandages in Sam's backpack and dressed the wounds smoothly with an expertise that told of experience.

"So what's he doing now?" Dean asked, grim determinedness in his voice and eyes. "Why not just keep coming after us until you're dead?"

"He's smart, that one. Probably recalculating, deciding what move to make next. Not to mention he's what you'd call an alien."

Sam snorted, laughing, "Yeah, sure."

"You think I'm joking. Not hard to understand that you would. But you need to trust me on this one; I've got a lot more experience—"

"Look, buddy," Dean interrupted, "I don't mean to be rude, but you're on the midnight express to nutcase. There's no such thing as aliens; it's all made-up mumbo jumbo, a—a rumor started by some paranoid attention hogs."

The Doctor stood up, addressing Dean with a frown, "And you really believe that, after what you boys do for a living?"

"We didn't tell you anything about us," Sam said warily, glancing over at his brother. "What do you think you know?"

"You'd be surprised, actually…Sam and Dean Winchester."

Amy rolled her eyes at the Doctor's unnecessary dramatics, but Sam gulped quietly and Dean narrowed his eyes. The older brother growled as he walked over to the Doctor, "How the hell do you know that?"

Leaning against the wall nonchalantly, the Doctor answered, "Ran into your dad a few years back. Lovely man, John was. Troubled, though. He faced a lot of demons in his day. Literally, I've heard."

"Yeah," Sam admitted, surprising Dean with his sudden honesty. He was tired of all the mystery and suspicion; he'd had enough lately, anyway. "That's our big secret, I guess. We're hunters. We track down demons, spirits, creatures…we—well, Dean calls it the family business."

Dean gave him a hard look for spilling, but didn't deny anything, telling the Doctor, "It's true. We don't do it for money, recognition, anything." He looked at the hitchhiker squarely in his green eyes and said, "And we're good at what we do. Now how long are you two stuck here?" The Doctor screwed up his brow, his confusion prompting Dean to explain; "You're restless, only sticking with capable people, and you seem apprehensive, like you don't want to leave the area—meaning your reason to stay is probably somewhere in that forest."

Raising his eyebrows, the Doctor grinned and remarked, "Smarter than you look." Then, glancing at Amy guiltily, he admitted, "We'll be stuck here for maybe three or four weeks." Amy groaned, as the Doctor had probably expected her to.

And from across the room, quiet in his chair, Sam spoke up: "You could stay with us for a while." He felt good offering these people help, even though the minute the proposition left his mouth, Dean gave him a death glare. "Come on, man, we should be a little more helpful than we usually are. Besides, we just finished a case; we deserve something of a break."

"We'd owe you a favor," Amy offered, then seemed to reconsider. "Er—he can owe you one," she said, pointing at the Doctor.

Though appearing slightly skeptical, Dean announced reluctantly, "Alright, they can stay with us. But only until you find a way to get home." The others grinned, including Sam, who thanked Dean. "Yeah, whatever. You do realize we have to set up somewhere for Amy and the Doc to sleep."


	3. Chapter 3

A few hours later, when it was getting dark, Dean announced, "I'm going to take a shower now," proceeding to then pull off his shirt and glance back at Amy for her reaction.

Eyes glued to her magazine with an utterly disinterested look on her face, Amy told him matter-of-factly, "Not gonna work, buddy boy."

Though mildly disappointed, Dean went into the bathroom and locked the door behind him. Within a minute, water was running and Dean was humming softly (though he barely could be heard). Sam and the Doctor were talking, sitting in the kitchen chairs and clearly invested in their conversation.

"So you're telling me…..aliens? Like, little green men?"

"Common misconception, but no. Well, there are little green men, but that's only one species."

Sam inquired thoughtfully, "Why haven't they tried to contact us? I mean, there's not a lot of proof that they're actually out there."

The Doctor snorted, putting his feet up on the table casually as he replied, "Of course they've tried to contact Earth, but you humans are simply too stupid to see it."

The Winchester's nostrils flared as he repeated dangerously, "You humans?"

Biting his lips, the Doctor paused before murmuring, "Right. Probably shouldn't have said that."

Pinching the bridge of his nose and closing his eyes, Sam sighed, "Just…try to explain it in ways I'll understand."

The Doctor's eyes shone as he said, "You're a smart kid, Sam, I can tell."

"Thanks, but…kid? You're only, like, 5 years older than me."

A sad light came from the Doctor as he spoke quietly, "I'll tell you what I told your brother—I'm a lot older than I look."

"Like 10 or 15 years older?"

"Try 15 hundred."

Sam was frozen now, trying to take it all in. "So, what, you're….an alien….?" When the Doctor hesitantly nodded yes, Sam bit his lip softly before continuing, "Did my dad believe you?"

"It took a lot of faith and time," the Doctor replied, "but yes, he did. And he trusted me, too, by some miracle." He paused a moment before asking, "Where is John now?"

Sam looked away then, pain and anger and sorrow all in his eyes at once as he muttered, "Dad's gone now. For good."

"I'm sorry, Sam. I really am sorry."

"Sorry about what?" Dean had just stepped out of the shower, a towel around his waist and one over his shoulders, with his mouth set in a straight line.

The Doctor didn't answer and stood up, clearing his throat before announcing, "We need to figure out how to stop Zennan."

"Who?" Dean was clearly getting sick of 'all the alien crap'.

"The bounty hunter. Now, if he's been hired by who I think he's been hired by, he'll have a one-way transporter for when he's finished the job."

"Of killing you," Sam said, frowning.

The Doctor answered with an uncomfortable gulp, "Yes. If we use up his transporter and send him back, he won't be able to come after us again. Transporters that powerful are pretty hard to get a hold of, especially on his planet."

"Wait a minute," Dean cut in, laughing humorlessly. "Transporter? As in, 'Scotty, beam me up'?"

"No," the Doctor answered, slightly and visibly annoyed. "As in, you push a button and you're taken wherever you want to go."

Licking his lips and exhaling sharply, Dean looked around at everyone and addressed the Doctor, "Listen, Sammy here's pretty open to new information. Me? Not so much. I'm pretty skeptical myself, always have been."

"You hunt monsters!" Amy cried.

"Yeah, well those are a little easier to believe than aliens, sweetheart." Amy frowned at that, crossing her arms in irritation. The sun was beginning to set, casting long, dark shadows across the room.

The Doctor noticed this and announced, "Now would be the best time to go after Zennan. He's setting up camp right now, most likely out in those woods."

"Then let's go," Dean said firmly, grabbing his pistol and motioning that his brother do the same.

"Would you put your guns _down_ , please?" the Doctor asked them, irritation in his voice.

Dean opened up his gun to check the bullets, telling the Doctor without looking up, "Yeah, no." Though annoyed, the Doctor let the brothers tail him as he left the motel room and went around the back of the building towards the forest. Stepping lightly and with precision among the brush and foliage, the three stayed silent and alert, until, of course, Dean got bored and whispered so they could hear him, "So galactic bounty-hunter, huh? Boba Fett, anyone?" Sam, however, gave him the 'shut up, Dean, this is serious' look, and Dean piped down.

The three had been creeping around a total of 10 minutes when they heard an unexpected rustle in the bushes just behind them, and they all whipped around, expecting the worst. They scanned the ground, until Dean let out a pissed-off sigh laced with relief, "It's just a rabbit." Sure enough, the little critter hopped out of the underbrush, nose twitching and eyes blinking rapidly. The Doctor smiled and Sam sighed, both relieved.

Suddenly an arm was around Sam's neck, tough, uncompromising, and insanely strong. It was Zennan, and the Doctor's face grew cold with anger. Dean's gun was trained on the bounty-hunter, fury in his eyes as his brother clawed and gasped for air.

"Let the boy go, Zennan."

"Boy?!" Sam exclaimed, choking out protests as he struggled against the bounty-hunter's grip.

Taking a slow, hardly noticeable step towards Zennan, the Doctor went on in a negotiating tone, "It's me you want, not Sam, or Dean, or anybody else. So collect your bounty, Zennan. Dead or alive, right? I surrender."

"What, are you crazy?" Dean hissed, his gun still trained on the alien. The air was tense as the bounty-hunter stared coldly at the Doctor, silently deciding what to do. In an instant, though, Sam took a deep gasp as he was shoved forward and let free. The Doctor threw his hands up and stepped forward while Dean asked his brother if he was alright. Zennan approached the Doctor, his helmet hiding his disdain as he took the Doctor's arm forcefully—and the transporter was visible. Within reach, even.

The moment went by in a blur, but the Doctor pulled away from Zennan's prying grasp and grabbed his wrist, using his hand to press the button on his own transporter. The second it was pushed, the bounty hunter was gone—not in a flash of light, not with a loud 'crash' or 'bang'—just….gone. Dean wasn't even blinking, he was too…well, put off by what had just happened. Sam was slack-jawed, too, but had a smile in his eyes.

"Huh. Who knew," he chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief.

"If you say 'I did', I'm gonna shoot you in your smug little face," Dean grumbled, addressing the Doctor, who was grinning triumphantly.

Once they came back to their motel room, Amy leapt up from her chair and exclaimed, "Doctor! Thank God you're alive! Oh, you two, too."

"How considerate," Dean remarked sarcastically, setting his gun on the table before plopping down face-first on the bed. Sam eyed him curiously before sitting down neatly in a chair and looking over at the Doctor.

"So what do we do now?"

"Well," the Doctor replied, glancing out the window cautiously, "if you're still planning on letting up stay or travel with you, then it's really up to you. And your brother, of course."

"I'm in charge," Dean mumbled, barely understandable since his face was resting on a pillow.

Sam laughed, "Yeah, nice thought, but no."

The rest of the night went on, until Sam and Dean took the floor at 11:00, the room black but their eyes still open. "So you think we can trust this guy?" Dean whispered to his brother, skeptical expression still on his face.

It took a moment, and the wind blowing loudly through the glassless window almost interrupted him, but Sam answered slowly, thoughtfully, "Dad did. I think we should, too."

"Yeah, but aliens? I mean, that's just a little too crazy, even for us."

Sam blinked rapidly and yawned, then put in, "Well, the guy has a point. Should we really question it, considering what we hunt?" Dean made a short 'yeah I guess so' mumbling sound, though it was reluctant. After a small, tired sigh, Dean turned over and pulled his blanket over his shoulder.

"We still don't know his real name."

The End?


End file.
